I Took the Stars for Granted
by intrinsic
Summary: It is an accepted fact the Trunks Briefs is an international playboy. A little known fact is that Pan Son is Trunks's equal when it comes to trysts and conquests into the opposite sex's bedrooms. After running into him while out partying, Pan turns her eyes on the playboy to make him her quarry. Rated M for content and language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z

Author's note: This story contains material intended for mature audiences. For those easily offended, this will offend your sensibilities.

Chapter 1: Setting the Standard

The night was colder than it should have been; it was unseasonable weather for the end of April. That Saturday night, the line to get into the club was just as long as ever, but tonight the eager entrants stood closer together than usual, making the line contract into more of a cluster.

Of course, he didn't wait in lines. He skipped the group and was let in with no questions asked, a girl on each arm, a smirk on his face. The inside of the club was dark but the sporadically flashing lights could have induced seizures. The music was harsh to his ears, but he tuned it out quickly, leading the two women up the sweeping staircase to the VIP section. Up there, the alcohol was flowing, the city's elite were mingling and it was a playground of beautiful women for Trunks V. Briefs. He sipped a glass of expensive champagne and looked about for his night's prey. His dates were fawning over a movie star who didn't mind the attention.

He spotted her. A red-head, looking pouty and alone in the far back corner; he rose and casually moved over to where she sat. He took the seat beside her and offered her a glass of champagne. She took it with apprehension, looking at him warily. "So, sweetheart, why are you sitting here all alone looking so lonely? There are so many people around to talk to," he said, reaching his arm around beside her, resting it on the back of her seat and not her shoulder. She was too distrusting of the wolfish man beside her to fall for that kind of trick.

"Well, if you must know, I came here with him," she said, pointing to a man Trunks recognized as the city's chief councilman. "But once we walked in the door, I became invisible." She was new to the scene. She didn't understand the rules of the VIP suite.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"London," she answered. "I'm his administrative assistant." Trunks nodded. Secretary.

"Well, London, my name is Trunks," he said, extending his hand.

"I know," she answered.

"Since that is settled, how about you get up from here and have a good time since you're already here and all dressed up? Want to go downstairs and I'll buy you a drink? Do some dancing?" He stood, offering her his hand. She timidly took it, setting her empty champagne flute to the side.

"All right then, Trunks."

The next morning, he woke to a sprawl of shiny red hair across the pillow. The woman was naked, asleep, in his bed. She was beautiful for sure. A little inexperienced in bed, but, altogether, it was a good night. Trunks got ready for work quickly and silently, closing the door behind him as he left. He told his butler to fix the young lady, whose name he did not quite remember, some breakfast before showing her out. And to call the chief councilman and tell him that his assistant would be running late this morning, excuse her tardiness.

With that, Trunks turned and walked out to the elevator and off to work.

* * *

Pan was also sneaking out quietly from the house, (albeit a stranger's house) leaving the previous night's conquest naked in his bed. She slipped on her blue jeans, shoved her underwear in her purse, looked down at her ruined shirt and took one of his T-shirts out of his dresser. Then she stepped out the front door to greet the early morning grayness.

* * *

She went home and showered before slipping on some training clothes to go workout before she had to be at work at 9. When she got to the gravity room, Vegeta was inside waiting for her.

"You are late," he said.

"I was waylaid," Pan answered coolly, stretching out.

"Mostly just laid," the Prince retorted tartly. "You stink."

"You know, if I had a coin for every time you have said that, I'd own the bank." He crossed his arm and gave a condescending look.

"Hurry up, brat, I am losing my patience."

"I didn't realize you had any left to lose," she said, readying herself for the fight.

"I don't." And he struck.

* * *

Two hours later, Pan was rushing into work down in the experimental section of Capsule Corps labs. Nine o'clock on the dot.

"Good morning," she said kindly to her co-worker, Kathy, who was an older woman looking retirement in the face.

"Good morning Pan," she replied warmly. "I am certainly glad that it is Friday."

"So am I! This has been such as busy week."

* * *

The nighttime found her out with a few friends at a local bar, drinking before going off downtown to see a band play. Actually, Pan didn't have a ticket to the sold out show, and didn't really desire to go see some bubblegum pop act that she was too old to listen to, from nosebleed seats. Bra stopped by for a little while, but then left to go meet Goten for dinner.

Once everyone was gone, Pan was left sitting at the bar, sipping highballs, and waiting. She knew her mark when he came in. Dark haired, dark eyed, strong for a human. He slipped off his light jacket and hung it on the coat rack beside the door. Shaking off the cool spring air, he stepped up to the bar and ordered a stout, looking around for his friends as he waited on the bartender. He spotted his comrades in a table toward the back, and started back with his beer in hand. Pan caught his eye momentarily, but acting coy, turned back to her drink. In the background, his friends were greeting him with laughs and jokes.

Pan drank two more drinks and ignored two men before getting up and sauntering over to the pool tables in the very back of the restaurant. As she passed the dark-haired man, she brushed against him just enough to make him know it wasn't an accident. She continued to the pool tables, knowing his eyes were on her; her tight blue jeans, high-heeled boots, and long black hair.

She was sizing up cue sticks when he walked over. Her mostly-empty second drink sat on a coaster on the edge of the table. He sat his beer beside it. "Wanna play a game?" he asked. She looked at him, sizing him up, before downing the rest of her drink.

"Sure. If you buy me another drink."

"No problem."

By the time he returned, she had finished setting up the table. "I didn't catch your name…" he said, handing her the drink.

"Pan."

"I'm Chase." He sipped his beer and pulled a cue stick from the wall, looking down the stick for any flaws. It passed his test. "So, Pan, what are the stakes going to be?" he asked, casually leaning on the cue.

"Well," she said, leaning over the table and staring down the eight ball before sending it speeding toward the triangle of colorful spheres. "I win, you take me home. You win, I take you home." He nodded.

"Sound good. I call a re-rack, though."

"Yeah?"

"Nobody agreed that you were going to be the one to break."

* * *

Trunks was being dragged across the atrium of the new art museum by a very lovely art student named Marie. There was a gala being held for the grand opening, and he had just happened to meet the stunning Marie. As she pulled him through the crowd, he was making his plan of escape (which included taking her with him). She was desperately searching for her favorite professor, a man who had dedicated his time to the design of the new museum. Of course, always a philanthropist, Trunks (or, really his mother), had donated a large sum to the museum foundation. Basically, Capsule Corp paid for the building.

"Dr. Robinson!" Marie said, finally locating the older man.

"Marie, dear!" he said, face lighting up in the greeting.

"I found Mr. Briefs and was just thanking him for what his company has done for the museum. I thought you might like to meet him." The gray-haired man turned to Trunks and smiled.

"You can call me Trunks, Dr. Robinson," the President said, extending his hand. As soon as Dr. Robinson took it, he launched into a series of thank-yous and praises and then into the finer points of the museum and different nuances and yaddah-yaddah. Marie was enrapt with what the man was saying, and Trunks let him babble on for Marie's sake. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, the good doctor was called away by someone else.

"Now that that is through, Miss Marie, what would you like to do next?" he asked.

"My place is only a couple of blocks over," she said. Trunks typically didn't spend the night at women's places; it was an inconvenience when leaving. But, since it was close and Marie was in love with Dr. Robinson, he figured it was a safe bet she wouldn't mind him leaving. He offered his arm and she led him to her apartment.

* * *

Pan and Chase were back at his place, not wasting time. It was the lucky difference between Pan and Trunks: she didn't have to woo her tryst into bed. But Trunks was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Always having a knack for the darker side of things, Chase was tied to his four post bed, naked while Pan lingered over him, teasing him, tasting him and torturing him. She had on her black lace bra and matching thong, her hair wild and everywhere as she took her time trailing down his body with kisses and bites. And then she did something she enjoyed doing more than anything to a man (besides fucking him later). She straddled his middle, leaned forward enough that her breasts were just touching his chest and began a very long and torturous monologue in his ear.

"So Chase…are you so sure I will let you have me now? I could leave you strapped here to your bed for your roommates to find…but could I be so cruel? I saw you walk in tonight and knew immediately I wanted to take you home and fuck you like a bitch. You'll be eating my pussy until I let you quit. And I will fuck you until your dick was as raw as my cunt. And I won't untie you. I'll make you lay there and I won't let you come. Your cock will be so hard and you won't even have your hand to help you, bitch…" and her hand slipped down his body coming to rest at his inner thigh. Her hand crept up, brushing his sac, then down toward a place he was not expecting; all the time, she murmured in his ear. And then her fingers forced their way inside of him. He tensed. "Oh no, Chase. You're going to take this." And she was massaging inside him, working her fingers, and all of sudden, he knew he was going to come. But she stopped. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

* * *

"Got any roommates?" Trunks asked, following Marie up the stairs to her apartment.

"Yeah, my brother, who is out of town, and his best friend, who is out getting shitfaced and probably failing at seducing a freshman." And they were outside her door and she turned to look at him, unlocking the door. And without his expecting it, she jerked him into a kiss, hopping up and wrapping her legs and arms around him. "So we are all alone," she whispered against his cheek. Her body slipped a little and brushed the new tent in his slacks. He nearly groaned as he pushed past the opened door and into the dark apartment. He slid off his jacket as she suckled down his neck. Good thing he was immune to hickies…because Marie seemed prone to giving them. Hopefully she's good at sucking elsewhere, he thought. He slid his hand beneath her skirt, up her thigh and under the edge of her panties. She groaned.

"Where's your room?" he asked into her breasts. "At the end of the hall, last door," she managed, finding pleasure at grinding her core against his traveling fingers. He pressed her back against the wall, fumbling with his belt beneath the tightly wrapped legs. "Don't stop," she breathed. And then Trunks froze.

"Fucking goddamn you fucking cunt whore!" a man growled.

"Fuck," Marie breathed. "I guess he did find a fucking freshman."

"Or something," Trunks said, slipping two fingers into Marie's pussy, making her forget the roommate. But Trunks heard the roommate's partner. A low sultry voice, seductive and dangerous. And amused. It sent shivers down his spine and was vaguely familiar.

"Now Chase, if you want me to let you fuck me, you have play the game. I promise you the best sex you can have is when you have to prove you are a man to a woman who has taken all your dignity." Trunks heard a groan from the man. "I want you to beg me. Beg me to let you have one hand." He cursed her quietly then groaned again. And again. It was a pained groan. And with his Saiyan ears, Trunks couldn't block it out, even though Marie had slid down his body and was sucking his dick. He let out a quiet groan; she had quite a talent. "Beg me." Marie fixed him back up and looked him in the eye. "I want to show you something in my room," she said, wide-eyed.

"Please, please, untie me, for Kami's sake," the roommate groaned.

"Are you sure?" the voice said.

"I beg you."

"All right then." And then Trunks's eyes widened. PAN. That was PAN SON'S voice.

"What the fuck?" was all that came out of Trunks's mouth. Marie looked confused but Trunks was already opening the door and reaching for a light switch. And the scene he found was, by all means, not pleasing. There she was, black lace underthings, slim body and triumphant face, flicking toward the source of the interruption. Chase had been let go and was frantically rubbing his engorged penis and coming, in large, white looping spurts. Projectile coming, all on himself and his bed and the floor, his eyes closed tightly, face wrenched in pain and pleasure and he let out the deepest shuddering groan known to man.

Marie's look was priceless shock. But Trunks's look was unmistakable anger. Pan looked at him, slightly confused and then very aware. "Hi, Trunks," she said kindly, quirking a smile more resonant of a smirk than a grin.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Thinking?" he managed.

"I'm wondering why you are interrupting my evening."

"You know her?" Marie asked, finding her voice and obviously grossed out.

"I used to babysit her. My best friend's niece. And, well, Pan, your evening is over, now." Chase had returned to the same planet as everyone else and was now looking very embarrassed that three people were able to watch what had just transpired with him.

"No the hell is it not," she said, putting her hand on her hip.

"I'm not going to let you stay here. It's not right."

"Pot calling the kettle black, huh, Trunks?"

"Please let it be over," Chase said, untying himself with his free hand. "You're going to fucking kill me."

"Pussy," she spat.

"Sorry, Marie." Then, before any objections were made, Trunks grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder and left.

"Okay," Chase said after the two departed. "Can we pretend this didn't happen?"

"It is burned into my retinas but I will not mention it again. Unless I am drunk at my wedding and you make a shitty toast."

"Deal." Little did Chase know, four years later, Marie would be telling all of the guests the unseemly story at her wedding.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry I didn't line off my last chapter to separate Pan's story from Trunks's. I went back and edited it though and also made sure to do so in this chapter. Thanks.

* * *

"Put me down you fucking asshole," Pan shouted, struggling harder than she ever had against Trunks and he didn't even notice. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. Vegeta pissed.

"No," was all he said as he flew her (mostly naked) back to Capsule Corp. Once there, he entered the gravity room and unceremoniously tossed her on the floor. "Explain."

"Shit, I didn't realize you needed a sex ed lesson," she said, getting up and padding over to the other side of the gravity room. "But I can better explain when I'm not undressed, or, would you rather me keep my outfit?" Trunks's eyes skimmed her body, lingering on a dragon tattoo he didn't know she had on her hip, and then decided to take the high road and tell her to change. He made a motion with his head toward the room she was headed toward. She disappeared and he assessed his own look. He was put back together. She took 10,000 forevers to come out of the small locker room. He could hear the shower running and hear her moan softly. He snorted at her audacity. But she returned, fresh-faced and angelic in training clothes.

"Where were we?" she asked.

"I don't care to recap what the hell ever I just witnessed, but I don't expect that continued behavior of yours."

"Which behavior? Picking up strangers or torturing them until they beg to be able to jerk themselves off?" Trunks flinched, making Pan grin. "I'm a grown woman…or have you forgotten that I've grown up and not the kid you used to babysit? Maybe by the time I'm 40 you'll recognized me as an adult. Besides, I don't see why it makes a damn to you what I do in my free time, so long as I show up at work Monday on time."

"I don't want you showing up pregnant with no name for a father, or suffering from a disease, or, shit, I don't know, generally acting unbecoming every other night."

"Birth control, saiyan genes, and I'm following your lead, playboy," she said, listing on her fingers. "Besides, how do you know I act 'unbecoming' every other night?"

"Don't," was all he said. "You should have more honor than this."

"You should be smarter than to try to give me a lecture." He was red in the face and had nothing noteworthy to say unless it was, 'You shouldn't be sleeping around like a slut.' But then, she would return the statement and kill him for calling her a slut. Which he had a hard time imagining doing anyway. It was wrong to call her that…despite her actions. Experienced, she was. There was no denying that. She was going to argue with him regardless of what he tried to tell her. That's how their relationship had always been, but, most of the time, it didn't involve such as serious topic to bicker over.

"So why do you feel the need to do this?" he tried. "I mean, plenty of guys would be your boyfriend." She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I don't want a boyfriend, idiot. I want sex. Just like you and your parade of women. Never find one that is good enough to be perfect, is there?" she asked. Trunks snorted.

"Feh. Do what the hell ever you want to do, but don't do it around me," he said, like it was her fault. Her eye twitched but she didn't retort, surprisingly. "Besides, you're going to do it anyway, right?" Pan shot him a cheeky grin and nodded deeply.

* * *

That night, Trunks didn't sleep. His satin sheets burned his skin and entangled his legs. He threw the covers off and paced in front of the window overlooking the city. "Fuck," he muttered.

He was still mad at Pan. He couldn't exactly name a source for his anger, but it was genuine. The scene was burned into his mind forever. Not so much the man in the bed, he had seen more shocking things in some unsavory places potential business partners had taken him to in hopes of getting in bed with Capsule Corp. Etched into his mind was the vision of Pan, standing there, a petite goddess, barely dressed, commanding a man to destroy his pride and fuel his anger. If any woman was able to do to him what Pan had done to Chase, Trunks's humiliation would be anger in mere moments. But, then again, angry sex was always good…unforgiving and rough…and almost never ended in anger. It cooled tempers but fired passions. Perhaps that was Pan's motive. Sounded like her MO for life…push buttons, fight, and then be okay.

But still, it was Pan. She was barely an adult…well, 24. Not really a kid…dammit. He never thought she would turn out like this. Shit, he was surprised she took interest in men enough to sleep with them. Not that she really liked any of those guys. Still, she wasn't obsessively training. Perhaps she was trying out a new skill set.

Hours passed as he paced and thought about Pan. His thoughts ran in circles and what he was trying to figure out his mind was not altogether clear to him. It wasn't really his problem. It was her decision. But he felt responsible for her, as he always had. And, she was right, he had opened her eyes to his excessive use of women. And he suddenly felt bad. Like, really bad. Like guilty and need to repent bad. Then he decided this was entirely his fault because he had had an influence on her as a role model and set a bad example. He was going to take a vow of celibacy.

So, that vow lasted a whole of four days…damn meeting old girlfriends! Weak is the flesh.

* * *

Pan hadn't seen Trunks in a few weeks and ramped up her training regimen. Triples, as she and Trunks had always called it. Morning, lunch and evening. But the extra work didn't ease the thrumming in her blood, in her body. She decided after Trunks dragged her back to Capsule Corp that night that she might need to cut back, if only to avoid going through all the men in the city trying to find the one she didn't have to coerce into the things she had in mind. Really, rough, unyielding sex that lasted the entire night would suffice. Not all this lovey-dovey gentle crap. Even "rough and tumble" sex these days was more tumble than rough.

"Damn," she cursed aloud to herself as she popped a ready-made-meal into the microwave, wondering how long it would be until Vegeta came in bitching about how she had reprogrammed his workout routine for Thursdays. In a flash her food was ready and she sat down at the kitchen table to eat. As if on cue, Vegeta stomped in, growled as he passed her, and emerged from the upstairs a few moments later with Bulma in tow, as she told him he made the most ridiculous demands, even for a prince, which really didn't help the situation too much.

As soon as they disappeared, Trunks rolled in, glancing at her, looking slightly guilty in the process. "Yes?" she asked.

"Just came over for some dinner," he said, rummaging through the fridge for some sandwich stuff before making six ham and cheese sandwiches. He sat carefully down at the table across from Pan.

"Have to go back to work?"

"Not tonight. I have to present a growth plan to investors tomorrow, though."

"Yeah?" Pan replied.

"Same presentation I gave last week to the board."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Do you know what I really hate?" she asked, tone slightly apprehensive.

"What?" Trunks answered, wondering if he should be alarmed.

"Making small-talk with you." They were silent after that for a while. "Trunks?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what I was talking about, don't you?"

"No idea, Panny."

"The other night, when I tried to explain trying to find that one person…"

"I remember that." She frowned. He wasn't going to admit he knew remotely how she felt. And why she searched. And why she did what she did. She didn't press the subject and got up and left the conversation hanging.

* * *

She went to a new nightclub with Bra that night; it had opened recently, and Bra had wanted to go since the opening. So why not?

"I miss Goten," she said as soon as they got their martinis and were seated at the small table.

"Geez," Pan replied. "Every time he goes off you pine. Why don't you just go with him?"

"Because Mom won't let me. She says that Goten gets more work done in less time when I'm not there as a distraction," Bra pouted.

"Probably true," Pan responded, sipping her drink. "Is that Marron?" Pan had already confirmed the blonde-haired girl's presence but decided it was better for Bra to get her attention.

"It is! Marron! Marron!" Bra called out in a voice loud enough to wake the dead. Marron turned her head from the bar, looking over at the source of the yelling. There was Bra, waving like an idiot, and Pan, covering her ears in pain. Not much changes. She took her drink up to their table and pulled up a chair. After a long (and superfluous, Pan deemed) story, Marron explained that she was waiting on Uub, who had been otherwise engaged. The conversation then delved into Marron's description of next spring's clothing line she was designing at the current, making Bra squeal with excitement when she found out that polka dots were going to be in.

Pan rolled her eyes and stood and stretched, walking over to the railing to look out over the dance floor.

Perhaps she was getting too old for this scene. Or it was getting too old for her. She needed something new to entertain her. She wanted to chase the prey…stalk and hunt it down like an animal…like a saiyan. She snorted in irritation. She needed a challenge, wanted one. But, hell, wouldn't it all be the same shit? Same disappointment, just taking longer to get to? She wasn't one to quit though.

And she was lost in thought when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her outside the building, around to a side alley. "Why is it that you think that it is appropriate to drag me anywhere you want me to go, instead of asking like a normal person?"

"To avoid the inevitable outcome of the question."

"Touché. Do you now care to explain to me why you dragged me out to an alleyway, since I doubt you are going to bash me in the head and rape me?" Of course, he had acted out of brashness when he saw her overlooking the nightclub. The only thing Trunks was thinking was something along the lines of 'evacuate.' So he took her outside. Fuck.

"Don't drag some guy home tonight," he said. Then he looked down, very fascinated with the dandelions growing in the cracks at his feet.

"Why would you assume that I was going to do that?"

"Because you were looking over the whole club for someone. I saw you there. Looking for some target, a mark, your prey, whatever." Pan quirked an eyebrow.

"I was actually not doing that. Believe it or not, sir, I was thinking. And getting away from your sister and Marron's inane conversation about fashion." That was probably the truth, he measured in his mind, then doubly cursed himself for being such a damned idiot. "And I still don't understand why you are so wrapped up in my private matters. It's not like it's you I am screwing around with." Then her eyes narrowed sharply and the knowledge set it. "You're jealous."

"I am not."

"Are so. I've been through as many men as you have women. But none of those men have been you. Sometimes that royal blood does kick in, Trunks. You've been overlooked for mere humans. You want me."

"That's not true," he said, the bitter edge to his words revealing a light green touch of envy. "Go on inside. I don't even know why I bothered." But she had drawn blood. Perhaps Pan had found the quarry.

"Fine, then. I'll go back in and find someone just to spite you now."

"Wait," he said, weakly. She looked back. "Nevermind." Oh no, no, no. This was too golden to give up. Cruel and mean, perhaps, but perhaps it was not. Pan rounded on him, walking him back into a corner.

"Look me in the eyes right now and say to me you don't want me…tell me that and I'll quit. I will give up sex." She was too close to him, her body was too warm, her scent was too intoxicating, her face was too near. He met her eyes and before he even tried to get those words to pass his lips, she knew he was lying.

"I don't," he managed in a strangled, outdone voice an octave too high.

"Those aren't all the words, pretty boy, and other parts of your body say otherwise," Pan answered, looking down at the space between them. _Traitor_, Trunks thought. She eased closer to him, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "How long do you think it will take before you beg me?" Her breath was warm on his neck and sent a shiver down his spine that shook the center of his body. Bodies pressed together, he had never questioned his ability to woo a woman into his bed until this second. Pan was a different type…she was a fighter, a rebel, and motivated by the same void he was never able to satisfy. She was proud.

"I don't beg," he answered. "I'm a saiyan prince, remember?"

"Every man has a weakness, even you. But don't worry, I'll exploit some other man tonight. Or better yet, I might just go home and get off thinking of you, your body wet with sweat, moaning in pleasure, muscles tight and chest heaving with exertion, me underneath you, writhing, screaming…" Her voice was breathy and sultry, close to neck. She could feel his body tense and hear his heartbeat quicken. He was pinned against the wall and letting her bombard him with her seductive speech. She could have been speaking a different language because the words mattered little to him. He had heard women whisper things to him that would have made a sailor blush, but, truly, it was the smooth, erotic tone that set his body on fire…that, and the thought of her thinking of him while she touched herself. It was a confidence booster, and, well, his ego never knew when to stop expanding.

"If you don't stop while you're ahead, little girl," he whispered in her ear, letting his hands come to rest on her hips, tugging her closer into his body. "I'll be taking you home and turning you over my knee for such unseemly behavior," Trunks breathed. Pan copped a grin.

"I've never minded a man turning me over his knee. I didn't realize you were in to that kind of thing, Mr. President; it is rather refreshing," she said lightly, tugging at his tie to loosen it. Trunks frowned at her. She took a step back, grinning malevolently. "I'm just kidding…sort of. No need to be so serious, sour puss. Or can you not take a joke anymore? Stress getting to you?" Even at this age, she was able to push his buttons like she had when she was just a kid.

"No," he said tersely, straightening his clothes. Pan reached up and straightened his tie, looking into his icy blue eyes. She hadn't noticed earlier, but he had dark circles under his halfway bloodshot eyes. He was noticeably rundown; she couldn't fathom how much stress from work it would take to make _him_ look this tired. Maybe he needed a few hours in the regeneration tank, although, that probably wouldn't cure the stress of running a multibillion-dollar enterprise.

"You look tired, you know," she said quietly, concern in her voice, the temptress gone. She turned it off like a light switch. He looked at her in confusion. "Your eyes are tired. Have you been sleeping at all?"

"I have been finalizing the growth plan for the next fiscal year and getting the numbers for the past quarter's financials. It's just a busy time. I don't have much time to slow down too much because I've had 5 am conference calls every day this week with clients on the other side of the damn world getting them straightened out on product releases, plus the cluster fuck I call my daily routine. This time of day is all the unwinding I get, at 11 o'clock at night."

"Perhaps you should just go home and go to bed, Trunks, before you crash and burn." He snorted.

"I don't know if you understand it, but I find it terribly hard to fall asleep alone." She took his hand in hers, in an unexpectedly tender way, and looked at him a long second.

"Come on then," she said, walking back up the alleyway.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to tell the girls I'm cutting out. I'll point out the drunkest woman in there for you to take home to pass out in your bed without the exertion of sex, so you can get your good night's sleep." Somehow, when she put it that way, his previous admission sounded trite.

"That is too much work. Maybe I'll just go back up to the office and work until I fall asleep on my couch." Pan frowned back at him. They were re-entering the building, and she walked over to where Marron, Uub and Bra were all sitting.

"Pan! We thought you had left us!" Bra said. "Trunks! I didn't know you were here!"

"Yeah, we've been standing outside talking…kind of loud in here." The group nodded. Bra looked at them together and, like a bolt of lightning, she realized that would make such a cute couple! And they could double date with her and Goten! Why hadn't she seen it before? Well, Trunks wasn't really boyfriend material…and Pan didn't like boyfriend. Maybe it was a bad idea…but she was going to tell Goten about it anyway. "I'm about to head on home…lot to do tomorrow," Pan was saying.

"Aww, we'll miss you!" Marron said, like Pan would never return. Looking at the table, Pan estimated Marron to be on her fourth drink. Bad sign. The girl was bad at drinking.

"I'll see you soon enough," she answered, giving the blonde a half hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sis. I'm going home, too. I have another 5 am call."

"Yuck. All right. Night, guys." They walked out together.

"Going back to work?"

"Yeah."

"Want to come back to my place? I promise I won't seduce you. It's no fun playing with a wounded adversary." Trunks looked at her suspiciously.

"Fine, but just for a little while." Pan shrugged and followed Trunks to his car.

* * *

That's it for Chapter 2. Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

Pan's apartment was a major step down from the penthouse apartment that Trunks rented, but it was cozy. "Tea?" she asked once they got inside. "That's all I really have to offer."

"I'm fine," he said, settling into her couch. It was deliriously comfortable. His own furniture was mostly just for its posh looks…Pan had regarded it as minimalist and Scandinavian…too neutral for her tastes. Of course, Bra had picked it out with the orders that it should at least look like a man lived there. Otherwise, she had free license.

"The remote is on the coffee table." But he just relaxed further back into the cushions and closed his eyes. Pan came over and plopped down beside him. He hadn't realized he was actually this tired. She was right. He had been running on empty for months. It didn't help that he hadn't had a vacation in a couple of years, aside from the sparse company holidays. Weekends were a god-send, even if he did have to check his email and take a few calls. In just a few minutes, he was sound asleep. Pan smiled. It had worked every time in the history of the couch. It didn't matter if Pan was hosting dinner, showing a movie, or getting everyone together to watch the big game, Trunks inevitably fell asleep on that couch before the night was through. Sometimes, he fell asleep before the opening sequence in the action movie.

He slept the entire night on her couch. When his phone rang in the morning, he answered it, took the call, then laid back down and slept until he had to get up and go home to get dressed for work. Pan was in the shower when he left, quietly, out the door.

* * *

Trunks walked into his apartment late that afternoon, calling out to his butler he was home. There was no response.

"Gin?" he called, setting his belongings down on the couch. "Hello?"

"I gave him the rest of the day off," she said from out on the balcony. He could see sleek black hair stretched out behind her onto the deck of the hot tub.

"Thanks for taking the liberty of doing that."

"No problem. He didn't object. I cooked you dinner. It's on the stove. Bulma sent me over with that box full of plans and the prototypes…it's on the dining table."

"That was sweet of you to bring those over for her."

"You say that like I offered to do her a favor."

As promised, the box of junk was on the table and pots of noodles and pork dumplings were on the stove. Trunks could have cried at the beautiful sight. It was gone in a matter of minutes.

Fully sated, he walked around to the living room where the balcony door was opened. "Are you pruney yet?" he asked, looking over the railing to the street below; he didn't look in her direction.

"No, actually. The role of courier and cook took up the majority of my time here, so I haven't been in here long. Although, I will say, this is heaven." He turned and looked at her. She had her head tilted back against the headrest and had her eyes closed, neck craned back enough for him to take in the graceful curves that lead into smooth, sexy shoulders.

"Are you naked?" he asked.

"I really recommend the hot tub treatment after long days like today," she continued, ignoring his question like he hadn't said anything. Her face was relaxed. He stepped back in and returned with two towels, setting them on the deck.

"Are you naked? I only ask because I would like to know the dress code before I hop in." Pan opened one eye and tilted her head up to look at him, a few strands of hair slipping over her shoulder and into the turbulent water.

"No, Trunks, I carry a swimming suit around in my back pocket," and with that statement, she tilted her head back and closed her eye. Trunks slid into the water a few seconds later, heaving a sigh as he submerged his body. "If I was you, this would be my favorite place, and Gin would have to peel me out of here to go to work."

"Actually, I've only ever used this thing twice, which is really a shame, since the last renter must have paid a fortune to get it installed on this floor." He rested his head back, feeling tension ease out of his body reluctantly.

"Take your ponytail down," Pan said.

"What?"

"It'll help your headache."

"How do you know I have a headache?"

"You were squinting when I looked at you." He pulled his hair down, letting it fall around his shoulders, floating atop the water. It did feel better to have it down. "Long day?"

"Meh. Thank you for letting me sleep on your couch last night. And for cooking for me now."

"I figured you would be hungry after the presentation with the investors." He was getting a little suspicious of her motives.

"How was your day?"

"Well, I figure, triples with your father, plus several malfunctioning robot prototypes, along with Bulma throwing random jobs at me after work makes for a pretty busy day."

"Triples, huh?"

"It's so I can kick your ass and drag you around where I want one of these days." Her foot brushed his but she jerked away quickly. "Sorry."

"'s fine," he replied lazily. "If Gin was here, he could bring us a bottle of wine."

"I have a bucket of beer on ice on the other side," she said. Trunks leaned over the edge and pulled two beers out. She sat up to take it, hair cascading off the deck into the water, riding the waves of bubbles until clinging to shoulders. She took a long sip and set the bottle on the edge.

"Plans later?"

"Nothing planned. Stay in…too tired."

"Was this a worse day than you are letting on then?"

"We didn't meet the set growth goal this past quarter. We gained but only met half the goal. I had to break that at the investors meeting today, and, of course, they interpreted that as we are losing market ground to Tekco."

"They always think that and are always wrong."

"I know, but they still have to gut me and rake me over the coals at the meeting." No wonder he had a headache.

"C'mere," she said, ushering him over. "Sit on this step and I'll rub your shoulders for you. You know I'm the best at it." He slipped across to her, resting on the step between her legs, letting her slide her hands across his tense neck and back, working out knots and kinks. It was relaxing and delicious; her fingers, thumbs and palms each a magical implement, expertly put into use by Pan. His reaction was mostly an attempt at not drooling and letting his eyes roll back in his head.

"Is that better?" she asked. He groaned an affirmative response and collapsed back against her body, worn out from the day and finally healing.

"And what I just did would be much less awkward if you were wearing a bathing suit."

"Don't worry about it Trunks. It's not like I'm laying back on you and your erection." He laughed and relaxed into the curve off her body. He was sure she was seducing him slowly, working some discreet angle, but he didn't care that that moment.

* * *

Pan stayed over that night, watching movies with Trunks before crashing in the guest room. She laid awake for a bit after going to bed, playing games on her phone, listening to Trunks toss and turn and fail to sleep in his room. After she had marinated in her pity for him longer than she wanted, she got up and went in his room.

"Do you need a glass of warm milk to sleep?" she asked him. He groaned.

"Is it your nature to seize every opportunity you can to taunt me?" he said, face down in the pillow.

"Yes, but I reserve my taunting exclusively for you," she said, walking over to climb up in his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked. She slipped under the covers beside him and immediately stuck her cold feet to his leg, which was answered with a hiss of explicatives.

"Seducing you with my cold feet. Little do you know, but in other places in the world, this is a very erotic gesture." He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Oh, really now? Where? The North Pole?"

"I just made that up," she said turning away from him and moved a little closer to him. "Hold me." It was a command, not needy or whiny, and it left no room for disagreement. Of course, that didn't stop the son of Vegeta from voicing his opinion.

"Pan, I don't think that this is entirely appropriate."

"It's not if you are a kid…but we're grow-ups, Prince Charming. So shut the hell up and hold me. It's not like I'm telling you to fuck me. Kami. I'm tired of hearing you sighing and tossing and turning trying to sleep. Besides, I haven't had some needy man hold me lately."

"I'm not needy," he said incredulously.

"No, but you _need_ to hold someone to sleep, don't you? Now shut the hell up and put your damn arm around me like you're keeping me safe from the dangers of the night or whatever." He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close to him. He breathed in the smell of her hair; felt the warmth of her body and smoothness of her skin.

"Kami," he breathed, settling into his pillow and closer to her.

"I'm not Kami, just Pan, boxer boy," she whispered. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Of course, his dreams were too sweet. He had a woman in his bed; a woman that wouldn't have him without slow torture being involved, and, she was employing slow torture in a way he had never known. She was like a silent enemy, killing him with genuine kindness and ulterior motives. He tried to reason that she was Pan…an irritating and mischievous kid he had babysat as a teenager. He tried to talk himself out of his attraction but that was incredibly hard to do.

He slept perfectly that night, past noon the next day. Pan didn't stir and wake him. She lay beside him, quiet and courteous, telling herself she was nursing him back to health because it was bad form to pursue already wounded prey that would easily succumb to a predator. She did care about his well-being as his friend though. He needed a damn vacation from the bullshit of his life. She pushed strands of hair from his face and looked at the peace that had settled across his features. He was beautiful, a perfect man.

"Pan…" he whispered in his dream, stirring for a moment. He pulled her close, and she knew exactly what he was dreaming about. Men. Her face was rested in the curve of his neck, the soft smell of man and the thin layer of sweat generated from their body heat triggering a slight feeling of yearning and emptiness as she lay quietly beside him. Tenderly, she kissed his neck, tasting his skin, letting her lips settle on his pulse, beating faster and stronger than a regular human's. Her heart thrummed in harmony with that beat.

He groaned, subconsciously running his hand down her side, grabbing her behind the knee and pulling her leg over his thigh. He would wake soon, she assessed. He was on the edge of consciousness, the dream slipping through his fingers. The rock-hard erection that was planted against her naked abdomen had produced beads of wetness, and his hips seemed to be fighting a losing battle not to thrust. His breathing was ragged, and Pan was fascinated. Hell, she had never seen a man having a wet dream. Yeah, she had on two occasions woken up to the ill after-effects of one, but had never witnessed the dream in process. Trunks made her think of a dog that was chasing rabbits in its sleep, going through all the motions, even an occasional woof. That made her grin more than it should have.

"Pan," he said, louder, his hips beginning to rock, reacting to the warm touch against her belly. She was debating waking him up…this was getting a little ridiculous, but, if she was having a good dream, she wouldn't want to be woken up. Then again, he might be embarrassed in just a couple of seconds…

She decided against better judgment to let him sleep, and when he began to make the sound of the pitifully sexual unfulfilled encounter, she wrapped her hand around his very large, very hard dick. About three thrusts later, he was coming on her stomach and sheets and hand. She let moved to get up but he grabbed her by her wrist, eyes sliding open, a satisfied smirk on his face. Before he could get in a word, she beat him to it.

"I didn't realize that 39-year-olds had wet dreams." He closed his eyes and smiled in earnest.

"I would be embarrassed about it if you had come to bed with underwear on."

"I would be embarrassed if you knew the whimpering sounds you were making."

"So you helped me out of pity?"

"I would only expect the same from you if I sounded like I was suffering. And besides, I didn't wear underwear over here last night, so naturally I didn't have any to wear to bed." He shook his head.

"Any particular reason why you didn't?"

"I never wear underwear with skirts if I don't have to," she said, smiling just for his benefit.

"Plans today?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"I'm going to shower. I don't know about you. And, no, you can't join me." She got up and started toward his bathroom, pulling his old T-shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor, leaving him with a good look at her backside.

* * *

They went over to Capsule Corp to spar for a while after they ate lunch. Trunks was beginning to get heavily distracted in a way he wasn't used to while sparring…by a damn woman. In the history of things that had distracted him while sparring, he could honestly say a woman had never distracted him. Now, this woman, Pan, whom he had known and sparred with her whole life, was keeping him from having his head in the fight. She was barely dressed in her training gear…but that had been the norm for quite some time. The memories of the morning had a resounding effect in his mind. He had been dreaming of her, and she knew it. He had been just on the cusp of waking, close to climax, when he became aware of his surrounds. And he had weakly groaned at the loss of the momentum, the dream, which involved Pan looking down at him from a desirable vantage, head thrown back and breasts bouncing in her black lace bra…But then the dream faded. He could have cried. But she was there next to him, and at his defeated groan, grasped him and held him until he finished. Any other woman probably would have been mortified or disgusted. On that same token, if he had been in the bed with another woman, he wouldn't have had a wet dream left in him.

Pan was taking advantage of him now and pummeling him into oblivion. It wasn't pretty. She had caught up with him strength-wise. She might not have been entirely aware of this, having lived in the shadow of the half-sayians' strengths her entire life, but she was up there with them now. It didn't help that she had channeled her recent efforts into strenuous training and masterminding some twisted way of eliciting a pathetic beg out of him. He was just a slack-ass at training, having let an unsatisfying job rule his life. And while he was assessing his inadequacies and Pan's sexual desirability, she took the opportunity to knock him into the floor with all her strength…she didn't even bother using a ki blast. She stood over him a second as he found his breath.

"Go find a quiet corner to masturbate in and come back when you can actually pay attention, boxer boy." And she left.

"Kami, she can break a man down," he said after she had walked out.

"That's a rather high assessment of yourself, brat," Vegeta said from the doorway. "Although, it is nice that she doesn't come in each morning smelling like the impotent seed and sickly sweat of some puerile human male." Trunks stood up, bristling at the reminder of Pan's previous endeavors. Vegeta closed the door behind him and turned up the gravity. Now the recoil of Trunks's lack of training would truly be felt.

* * *

A/N: sorry for the slow update time! Summer classes are almost over so I should be updating more frequently now! :-)


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